Don't Cry Out
by ShadowDanseur
Summary: Someone from the past has decided that Seeley Booth must pay for what he has done. He must know the ultimate anguish. The only way to get him, however, is through Temperance Brennan.
1. Prologue

**_Author's Note: This idea came to me randomly. I love seeing our favorite characters' reaction when the other one is in danger, so I couldn't resist. This is just the prologue, but the whole story is B/B centered, of course. Reviews, comments and ideas are always welcome. My first attempt at something longer than a one - shot for Bones._**

**_Disclaimer: The familiar character's aren't mine of course. Any of the ones you don't recognize, well ... I'm guilty. _**

**_Spoilers: None, but it is loosely based sometime in season 4. The future of season 4 anyway._**

* * *

The tide was tugging at her, trying to sweep her away from the shore. She could feel it pulling at her body, at her limbs, and she fought against it. She needed to open her eyes, but they didn't seem to want to obey the orders of her brain. Consciousness was coming to her slowly in the way of sounds and sensations, but she couldn't place it. She thought the soft _whirring_ sound could be coming from a large fan, but she still couldn't open her eyes. That didn't seem right, though, because Brennan was certain she didn't own a fan.

She felt heavy, sluggish. She tried to open her eyes again, and to her relief her lids responded. Artificial light accosted her eyes and she blinked several times to adjust them. Seconds passed as her optic nerves fired and sent signals back to her brain, painting their picture. As soon as that picture formed for her, a wave of nausea and panic assaulted her stomach. Brennan was not at home. She was not safe in her bedroom, nestled in her soft comforter and sheets. Panic started to rise in her chest, but she caught it and forced it back. Where the hell was she? She tried to turn her head, survey her surroundings and try to get a sense of where she was, but was terrified to discover that her head was immobilized.

The panic was rising again, but she did her best to keep it at bay. She couldn't panic yet, not until she knew what had happened. So far, all she could see was a ceiling, slate gray and apparently made of metal. Just barely in the line of her peripheral vision, she thought she could make out a lone light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

"Ah, I see the sedative has started to wear off."

She wanted to flinch at the gravelly male voice, but found that her body would not respond. She couldn't see the speaker, but he had to be close. She licked her lips, wondering if she was even going to be able to speak. Her mind focused on the part about the sedative; she hadn't felt waves tugging at her, it was her body trying to shake off the effects of whatever drug he had given her.

"Who… who are you?" She croaked, her throat feeling as though she'd swallowed copious amounts of gravel

"Surely you don't think I'm going to tell you? Please, Dr. Brennan, this isn't my first rodeo."

"I don't … know what that means," She answered, trying to swallow, "How do you know my name?"

"Oh, I know a lot about you, Temperance. I've been studying you."

"Why?"

"You don't think you're here for a reason? That I haven't chosen you very carefully?"

"Have you?" She asked, straining to see the speaker

"Of course."

She made a throaty noise as she tried in vain to wiggle her fingers. She'd already tried to wiggle her toes, but it was all to no avail. As far as she could tell, Brennan could speak and see, and that was the extent of it. She was effectively immobilized.

"Aren't you going to ask me what the reason is?" Her captor prodded

"Whatever it is, it doesn't matter."

"Au Contraire, Dr. Brennan. It matters greatly."

"Fine. Why me? What reason could you possibly have for kidnapping me?"

The man passed in front of the light momentarily, a dark shadow that moved across the line of her vision. The air swirled around her head, and then that same dark, gravelly voice that was speaking to her was at her ear, whispering.

"To make him pay, of course. I will bring Seeley Booth to his knees; and you're going to help me."


	2. The Unknown

**_Author's Note: I know these first few chapters are going kinda slow and aren't very revealing, but I'm just trying to set everything up. I'm also trying to make it believable, so I have to do some research. :) Let me know what you think!_**

**_Disclaimer: Not mine._**

**_Spoilers: None. _**

* * *

Booth was squeezing the back of the chair so hard his knuckles were white. His head was starting to pound from the force he was exerting to clench his jaw. Thinly veiled rage bubbled in his veins like boiling water, lighting his blood on fire. Before him, four sets of eyes were looking at him expectantly, various states of panic and uncertainty displayed.

"Anything?" Cam was the first to speak

"Nothing new. Security cameras show her leaving the building at 6:27 p.m. Tuesday night. In the video, she shows no sign of being under any kind of distress. The vehicle exit's the parking garage without a problem. That's it."

"So she was taken after she left, but before she got home?" Sweets clarified

"Her apartment shows no signs of her having been there."

Booth could barely recognize the sound of his own voice. He sounded like he was in control, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up the act. They'd been over this already, and it had gotten them nowhere. They had no leads, no suspects. From the looks of it, Brennan had just fell off the face of the Earth. He knew instinctively that such was not the case, but from an investigative point of view that was how it looked.

Booth had been the first to be aware of the situation. Brennan hadn't shown up at the diner for breakfast like she'd said; he'd dismissed it as a fluke until he'd shown up at the lab and no one there had seen her either. From then on, everything just snowballed, eventually landing where they were now. Temperance Brennan had last been seen by a security camera Tuesday evening; that was two days ago.

"What about her car?" Angela asked then, her voice unsteady

"I put out an APB on it, but we haven't gotten any calls on it so far."

Just then, as if to prove him wrong, his cell phone rang. He snatched it from the holster on his hip and flipped it open deftly, holding it to his ear.

"Booth."

The others watched him anxiously, watching for some change in his expression. They were rewarded when his mouth twitched. He barked something that sounded a lot like "Don't touch anything" and then slammed his phone shut and back into his holster.

"They just found her car in a ditch on the side of the road," He said tersely, glancing around at them, "They're expecting us."

"All of us?" Sweets asked

"No. Cam, come with me. The rest of you wait here; I plan on bringing the whole car back to the lab."

For a moment Angela looked like she wanted to argue, but then thought better of it when she caught the look on Booth's face. Seeley Booth could be intimidating in his own right, but at the moment he looked downright dangerous.

Cam and Booth were out of the office before anyone could form another sentence. Angela, at a loss, looked over at Hodgins, who tried to give her a reassuring smile. Tension hung thick in the air, coating the silence. She wanted to say something but no words came to mind. All Angela could think about was the fact that her best friend was missing and they had no way of knowing what had happened. She could remember their last conversation almost perfectly. She had stopped by Brennan's office on her way out to tease her about needing a life outside of work. They'd just solved a particularly harrowing case involving a young boy, one that she was certain had affected them all more than they wanted to say. When she'd gotten to her friend's office she'd found her sitting in her chair behind the desk, head in her hands. Without a word she had perched on the corner of her friend's desk and put a hand on her arm.

"You okay, sweetie?" She'd asked

Brennan had looked up at her then, blue eyes full of emotion and threatening tears. She would never admit it, but Brennan always took it hard when their cases involved children. Angela knew that and had always made it a point to check on her friend.

"You wanna talk?" Angela had offered

"I don't know what to say, Ange. I understand bones, I can read them. People, on the other hand, living people just don't make sense to me. That little boy was six when he was murdered. How could someone do that to him?"

She had been unable to form a suitable answer, and so had just squeezed her friend's arm and tried to reinforce how many lives they had just saved by catching the killer. They'd talked for several minutes more, until Booth had interrupted them. The partners were headed across the street to the diner and had invited her along, but Angela had refused. That was the last time she'd seen Brennan.

Angela sighed and tried to shake those thoughts out of her head. She needed to focus on the task at hand: finding Brennan. She couldn't say how, but she knew that wherever she was, her friend was still alive. Between them and Booth, they would find her. They had to find her.

"Angela?"

She started at the voice. Sweets was looking at her expectantly, and Hodgins had his eyes on her as well. She hadn't been aware that they had been talking, but that was the impression she had now.

"What were you thinking of just then?" Sweets asked, although he probably already knew

"I was thinking about my last conversation with Brennan," Angela answered tiredly, "About how upset she was about the case."

"A child's death is always unnerving," He replied evenly

Something in Angela broke at the calm in his voice, the lack of panic that she perceived. Nothing in this situation made any sense, and she couldn't grasp at how he managed to remain distant. He knew Brennan, had seen her several times a week for the last who knew how long.

"Unnerving?" She repeated, her voice rising heatedly, "Not unnerving, Sweets, horrible! Tragic, needless, horrifying … and no one felt that more than Brennan. Just because you couldn't see it didn't mean that she didn't feel it. Brennan spends her life catching murderers, and for that she deserves at least your respect!"

Her voice reverberated off the walls and bounced back to her. Even now, as the sound died in the air, she could hear the anger, the accusation. Both Sweets and Hodgins looked taken aback at her sudden outburst. Only then did she become aware of the hot wet tears on her cheek, and she swatted at them angrily. She wanted to lash out again, but the anger had died and left her feeling only emptiness.

She took a deep breath and looked down at the floor, then back up at Sweets.

"I'm sorry, Sweets," She amended, "I'm just really freaked out. I didn't mean to snap."

"It's okay, Angela," He replied softly, "I understand. I didn't mean to imply that I'm not upset about Dr. Brennan's … disappearance."

"I know," She answered

The room was quiet again, and Angela took several deep breaths to calm herself. Booth needed to get back with that car ASAP, before she drowned in the helpless feeling that was building in her chest. Whatever happened, they had to keep their heads if they were going to get Brennan back.


	3. Understanding From Necessity

**_Author's Note: I did my best to keep our beloved Brennan in character this chapter, but I also took a few liberties. I would imagine that anyone put into the situation she is in now would act a little unlike themselves in the face of extreme fear. Of course, I'm also a stickler for staying true to the characters, so I tried not to make it wholly unbelievable. Either way, let me know what you think. _**

**_Disclaimer: Not mine. Well, Earl is mine, but I am in no way bragging about that._**

**_Spoilers: None_**

* * *

Brennan was not afraid of being alone. In fact, she had spent a great deal of her life alone and had come to welcome the peace that came with it. In this situation, she was especially glad to be by herself. Being alone gave her the time and the quiet to focus more fully on her current state of affairs.

Her assailant did not appear to be in the room with her. There was no sound save for the slight movement of air around what she assumed was a fan. From what she could see (which was very little), it seemed that she was in an industrial environment of some kind. Unable to turn her head and peruse the room, all she could go off of was what she thought looked like a metal ventilation shaft running the length of ceiling she could see above her. Again she tried to move her extremities, and again nothing happened. Whatever sedative her captor had given her was working.

She tried to focus on her memories of what happened and how she had gotten here, but was rewarded with nothing but a blank. There was no residual pain in her head from any type of blunt force trauma, so she could only assume that memory loss was a side effect of whatever drug she had been given.

Memory loss was something Brennan had never admitted to fearing, but she feared it all the same. There was so much in her life that was a blank, so many memories that she should have had but didn't. Losing what memories she did have was almost paralyzing in it's fear. Fear, Brennan had learned, was the ultimate destroyer. She had enough obstacles before her, she didn't need her own emotions complicating things. Slowly, calmly, she took a deep breath and counted to ten. When she reached ten she exhaled and focused on the first thing that came to mind.

Booth. They had been sitting in the diner sharing a plate of fries, talking about pretty much anything that didn't pertain to the case. She had been trying to keep his mind off the case, knowing how hard it must have hit him. After all, their victim had been a six year old boy, not far from Parker's age. Brennan could remember marveling at herself, at the subtle ways she had changed in the four years she'd known her partner. Before Booth, she had never known that some people would actually be upset by her science and distance. She explained things exactly as they were, no sugar coating. These days, however, she discovered that she was learning to phrase things a little more carefully, trying to make certain things sound less upsetting. How strange.

Footsteps interrupted her reverie. Her mind caught the sound and held onto it, trying to glean whatever information she could. Her captor was possibly a middle aged man, if his uneven gate was anything to go by. He distributed more weight to his left foot, indicating a possible injury to his right leg or foot. She couldn't be certain of course, and even now she refused to jump to conclusions. Either way, whether it was truth or conclusion, the knowledge didn't really help her.

"Still awake, I see," That dark voice greeted, "I couldn't really be sure, you've been so quiet."

Brennan said nothing. There were some things she could still control, and she would be damned if she gave this man the benefit of hearing her scream.

"Do you have a name?" She asked instead

"Used to," He answered nonchalantly

"Well you know my name. What should I call you?" She continued

"Doesn't matter. How about … Earl?"

"Alright, Earl, what is it that you want me to do exactly?"

"Nothing, directly."

The room was silent again, although she could still hear the sounds of Earl shuffling about around her. She focused on her breathing, on keeping it steady and even.

A strange metallic clicking caught her off guard, and she knew that if her body was responding she would have flinched. The noise was loud and unexpected. The clicking stopped and nothing happened for the span of several moments. She felt a sinking fear at being unable to identify what was happening around her and possibly to her. She was trying to control that fear when her senses were overwhelmed with a fiery, tingling sensation. Letting out an audible gasp, Brennan clenched her fist against the sensation and was surprised to find that her body actually reacted this time. Earl must have given her an antidote to the sedative. Experimentally, she flexed first her fingers, and then her toes.

Whatever relief she may have felt at having full control of her body again was short lived, however. Along with the return of her mobility came a great splitting pain in the front of her head. The sedative had obviously masked the pain from any injuries she had sustained thus far.

"Earl, why did you give me back my mobility?" She asked, trying to divert her thoughts from the pain

"There's no reason to keep you sedated," He answered, "You've been bound and secured to the table. You're not going anywhere."

The word table caught her attention. She hadn't yet had time to process her situation, but now that it had been suggested she was certain that she was, indeed, on some kind of table. Also metal, from the feel of it beneath her hands. Although she didn't feel cold, the table beneath her did feel a few degrees cooler than the ambient air. She flexed her wrists and discovered that they were indeed bound, although not by rope or twine.

As a natural reaction, Brennan attempted to lift her head to take a look and nearly jumped when she discovered that she could. Her head was no longer held in place. A small triumph, she knew, and yet one that she welcomed gladly. When she glanced down, she could see that her wrists and ankles were bound to the table by thick straps of metal and burlap. She took a mental note of her condition: clothes dirty and torn in some spots, but she didn't see any bodily damage. The table, now that she could see it, looked like it belonged in a mental institution.

"There's no point in trying to figure out where you are," Earl said condescendingly

"How do you know that's what I was doing?" She challenged, ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach

"You're a scientist, Dr. Brennan. Of course you're first reaction would be to assess your situation, get any information you can. But I'll save you the trouble. You're on the third floor out of six in a mental hospital on an abandoned naval base. Does that help?"

She refused to let the disappointment surface. She hoped she was able to keep her face impassive; without a sound she lowered her head back to the table. She tried to focus on something other than the information he'd given her, but she couldn't erase the image he'd given her. Naval bases were large, with many different buildings spread out within their fences. Even if she screamed, no one would hear her.

"Tell me something, Doctor," Earl interrupted, "Have you ever studied the ancient Chinese?"

"I don't see how that makes a difference," She said coldly

"Oh, you'll see soon enough. Just answer the question."

"Yes, I have."

The sound of more shuffling, and then she got her first glimpse of her assailant. Earl, apparently excited about her answer, leaned over the edge of the table and put his face just above hers, directly in her line of vision. His countenance caught her off guard. Dark hair peppered with gray, narrow set brown eyes and a small mouth looked down on her. Earl was at least in his forties.

"I am fascinated with the ancient Chinese," He told her, "I've been studying them for years."

"Why are you telling me this?" She demanded

"Just trying to make polite conversation, that's all."

His face disappeared from her view then. Her mind wheeled as she tried to make the pieces fit, tried to make some sense of what was going on. He had told her directly where she was being held, which must mean that he was certain she couldn't escape. He had asked her about the ancient Chinese, which she was certain had no bearing on her current situation. Was there something she was missing? Booth usually did this part, he was the one that was good at making conclusions where there didn't seem to be any.

"Earl," She said suddenly, a thought occurring to her then, "You said that I was here because of Booth?"

"Correct, Doctor."

"How would he have any way of knowing that you're the one who took me?"

"I find it interesting how quickly you assume that he will come for you at all. Regardless, if that's you're way of asking me if I asked for a reward in exchange for your life, the answer is no."

"That doesn't make sense," She told him sharply, "Statistics show …"

"Statistics are wrong, Doc. I don't want anything in exchange for your life. This has nothing to do with money."

"Then what does it have to do with? I'm worth a lot of money you know."

The last sentence slipped unheeded from her mouth. She didn't know why, but it unnerved her to know that he didn't send a ransom note for her. Anthropologically speaking, the people with more money and stature in a society were often the ones taken first because they had the most to give in exchange for their lives. If this man had no intention of asking for money, then what could he possibly want?

"Money means nothing to me. I have a hunch that you're life means more to your partner than you know; in fact, I'm banking on it. You see, years ago Seeley Booth was responsible for taking a life even more important to me than my own. Now, I'm going to repay the favor."

Icy, skeletal fingers of fear snaked around her well built wall of self control. This man had no intention of letting her live - he was merely biding his time. Her stomach turned cold as the fear invaded her; she wanted to correct him, to tell him that he was wrong in thinking that her life was the most important one to her partner. Another thought came to her then, an alien thought that made her feel more terrified then she already was.

This man thought Brennan was important to Booth. He was certain that by taking her life, he was crippling her partner. There was a hole in his logic, however, a gross oversight. Somehow, Earl did not know of the existence of Parker. History showed her that a species' young was its most valued possession. Surely if this man had studied any ancient civilization, he would know that as well. Therefore, it did not stand as logical that this man would choose her over Booth's son - unless he was ignorant of Parker's existence.

Temperance Brennan had never wanted children. She was sure that if she had ever brought it up to Sweets, he would prattle off some stupid psychology about the pain of her own childhood. She had never given it any thought; she was happy with her life and her work. Just because she was a woman did not mean that she needed to have children to feel fulfilled. She had never understood the opposing side of that argument. That had started to change the moment she was partnered with Booth. That man loved his little boy so entirely, and he would do anything to keep Parker healthy and happy.

Now, Brennan decided that no matter what happened, this man would remain ignorant of the fact that Booth had a son. She could do nothing more for her partner, could not lend him her expertise on this. No, the only way she could help him now was to make this man believe that she was the most important thing in Seeley Booth's life.

For the very first time in her purely logical life, Temperance was filled with the overpowering need to lie.


	4. A Vestige Of Life

**_Author's Note: Okay, here's another one! I'm trying to make the story unfold in a logical progression of events without overwhelming you, my readers, with information. :) Thank you everyone for the reviews so far, I really enjoy hearing your thoughts! Reviews are a writer's ambrosia. _**

**_Disclaimer: Again, they're aren't mine. Except the crazy one. _**

**_Spoilers: None_**

* * *

Hours. They had spent hours combing over the damaged, twisted hull that was Bones' car and come up with nothing. Hodgins had found particulates in the tire that gave them nothing but the assurance that her car had indeed been run off the road where it was found, and had not been planted there. Cam found blood on the steering wheel that she was able to identify as Brennan's, telling them only that she must have hit her head when she crashed to a stop.

Now, well into the night, Booth was standing alone in the very center of his partner's office. He remained standing, immobile, glancing around at her things. Books lined the back wall; her desk looked exactly as she had left it Tuesday. Outwardly, everything pointed to a normal day. None of her possessions reflected the fact that Bones was missing.

Standing there, silent, Booth's mind wandered into the past. He recalled how he had felt upon discovering that Bones and Hodgins had been taken by the Gravedigger. That had been a race against the clock as well, but at least in that instance they had known who had taken them and what he wanted. That wasn't true this time around. Neither he nor the FBI nor any of the squints had been contacted with a demand for ransom, which unsettled him. What kind of murderer had his partner? What the hell did this person want?

"Booth?"

He turned at the sound of his name. Angela was standing in the doorway to the office, her lab coat still on over her clothes. She looked tired, and worried.

"What are you still doing here?" He asked, wondering if it had come out harsher than he intended

"Like I would go home at a time like this," She said simply, "We're all still here. Hodgins and Cam are going over the car again."

He made no response, but mentally he gave himself a good kick. Of course they were all still there - Bones meant a lot to all of these people. On a normal case, the squints worked their fingers to the bone to bring the culprit to justice and lay their victims to rest. When it was one of their own, well … the squints were a good team to have on his side.

"Listen, Booth," Angela began, stepping into the room and sitting hesitantly on the couch, "Wherever Brennan is, she's still alive."

He glanced down at the dark haired woman. For a moment he neither spoke nor moved; then, he took up a seat on the couch next to her. He let out a sigh and ran a hand through his now haphazard hair.

"You know that for certain?" He asked

"Well, not in the way Brennan would say certain," She answered, the ghost of a smile playing at her lips, "But I feel it. I don't know how to explain it - I just know that she's alive."

"Well, Bones is a fighter if ever there was one," He stated

Angela chuckled at that, drawing Booth's attention. He glanced up at her, and though the chuckle had died she was still smiling a little.

"I was just remembering the day I picked up Brennan from the airport. We were in the middle of a conversation and she just turned around and started asking this big guy why he was following us. She dropped him like a five pound bag of potatoes," She told him, chuckling again, "That girl has no fear."

"Tell me about it. Trying to make sure she doesn't run off and get herself shot is a full time job."

"Sometimes I think we're more concerned with her well being than she is," Angela said matter of factly

"Why do you think that is?" He asked

"I don't really know. We could always ask Sweets."

"God no," He said quickly, "The last thing I want to do is give Sweets a reason to rationalize Bones."

"I hate to say it," Angela started, "But I actually think it has to do with her family. She went from having a loving family to being alone in foster care. I think she took their leaving to mean that they didn't care about her anymore, and, well … I think she just got used to not having anyone around to care."

Booth looked over at his companion, at the sad look on her face. He imagined what he thought Angela was imagining: Bones, a young lady alone in the foster system, bounced from home to home. Bones as an adult, spending her days either alone or surrounded by dead bodies.

"Do you think that's why she became an anthropologist?" He asked softly

"I think it has a lot to do with it, yes. She doesn't trust living, breathing people not to hurt her, so she surrounds herself with corpses. I know she loves her work, loves returning the victims to their families, but I think there's more than that."

He could remember with stunning clarity the broken look on her face as she had watched her father and brother driving away, leaving her yet again. In that moment, he had seen first hand the gaping hole left in her heart by the desertion of her family. She hadn't been Bones then, sitting handcuffed to that bench, she had been Temperance. The broken fifteen year old girl, alone against the world. Except, this time, he had been there.

Enraged once more, Booth got to his feet in one swift motion and began pacing in the area in front of the couch. The idea of his partner, alone with some crazy asshole who intended to do God only knew what, made him want to start punching holes in the wall. They had to figure this out; they had to get Bones back. There was no other alternative.

"When I get my hands on that son of a bitch," Booth began to rant, "I'm going to make him wish I'd shot him. But first, I have one question for the sorry bastard: Why her?"

Angela followed his movements with her eyes, but remained seated on the couch. He was clearly agitated, pacing back and forth and clenching and unclenching his fists. She thought he looked about ready to explode, and she could identify with the feeling.

"Why her, Ange?" He asked then, facing her, "Why Bones? What could she possibly have that this person would want? Money?"

"Don't you think if they wanted money they would have asked for it by now?" She countered, "It's been nearly 72 hours. I'm no expert, but if ransom is the reason for a kidnapping, aren't they usually pretty quick to ask for it?"

"Yes. Okay, so it's not money. What else then?"

"Maybe it's revenge," Angela supplied, her mind starting to turn, "Maybe it's someone you guys were responsible for putting in prison."

"The people we catch are murderers, Ange. They aren't likely to be getting out any time soon."

"Okay, how about the family member of someone you put away then?" She continued, "Someone crazy enough to hold the two of you responsible for whatever happened to their family member."

"That's very possible. The only flaw there is the sheer number of people we've caught. It would take days to go through old files and locate the family members, even if we narrowed it to include only immediate family members."

"Brennan might not have days," Angela nearly whispered, what little hope she'd had deflating

The room came alive with a high pitched whine, startling both of them and making Angela jump to her feet. For a few seconds they glanced both around the room and at each other, wondering what the hell the sound was, when Angela rushed over to the desk.

"It's Brennan's fax machine!" She exclaimed

Within seconds Booth was at her side, waiting for the machine to spit the paper out. When it did Booth was the first to snatch it away. His eyes read and reread the words on the page. Angela waited for him to say something, but he remained still and silent.

"Booth?" She prodded, anxious

"Get the squints," He whispered, his voice dead, "Get everyone in here, now."

Terrified, Angela raced out the door and up the steps to the lab where everyone was gathered. They all glanced up at the sound of her approach, the most sound any of them had made in what had to be hours. The look on her face must have startled them, and Hodgins was the first to stand and come to her side.

"Ange? What is it?"

"Booth needs us," She barely managed to say, "In Brennan's office. Come on."

Without argument, Cam and Sweets stood as well and followed her. What could have been seconds or hours after Booth had sent her out, Angela was returning to the office with the rest of their team in tow. Her panic rose another notch when she laid eyes on Booth, who had not moved from his spot by the fax machine.

"What is it, Seeley?" Cam asked, noticing the pallor of his skin

He turned to face them, his movements sluggish and his face devoid of expression. Soundlessly, he held up the piece of paper in his hand. Hesitantly, Cam stepped forward and took the paper from his outstretched hand. Glancing down, her heart leapt into her throat when she saw the words on the page.

"Hello, Seeley," She began reading, "I would start by introducing myself, but you already know who I am. As you have no doubt discovered, your dear Doctor has been kidnapped. Don't worry, I have taken good care of her - so far. Several years ago, Seeley, you were responsible for the death of my only child, a young man by the name of Steven. It has taken me all these years to figure out a fitting way to make you pay for that, but I have. I assure you now, you have lost your beloved partner forever, Seeley. You'll never find her. I don't want money - I just want you to pay for what you've done. Yours."

Cam stopped reading. Her breath left her in a whoosh, and her eyes traveled first to Booth. He had remained silent through her reading, but she could see now that he was even more white than he had been when they'd first come in. Around her, the squints seemed to be in various states of shock. All of them save Angela, however, who was not only ghost white but had tears streaming down her face. The span of several minutes were passed in perfect silence, without even the sound of breathing detectable.

Something in Booth clicked. The feeling of paralysis that had stolen over him dropped away suddenly, and a path opened wide and clear for him in his mind. He pushed away the picture of Bones' face that had invaded his mind, pushed everything out of the way that was blocking that path. He was a man of action, and now there was work to be done.

"Hodgins," He barked suddenly, "See if you can trace what phone number that fax came from. See if you can narrow it down to a certain area at least. Cam, start searching within a fifty mile radius of Bones' apartment for any abandoned or bank owned buildings. Wherever this guy is, he's safely hidden but has access to phone and power lines."

"Booth."

Angela's voice, so tortured and soft, caught the attention of everyone in the room. Booth fixed his eyes on her, watched another tear fall from her dark eyes.

"Who is he?" She asked simply

"I can't be certain without going through my files …"

"Who is he," She demanded again

"His name is Conner Swenson."

"And Steven? What happened to his son?"

"Six years ago, Steven was a new agent at the FBI. Bright kid, good agent. Steven was on my team for a drug raid, his second career bust. We took the house of a low life mobster selling heroine to young kids. We thought he was unarmed, so I gave the command to hold fire. When I turned to give instructions for bringing them in, the guy pulled out a high powered rifle and shot the man closest to him."

"Steven," Angela stated

Booth nodded.

"His father, Conner, blamed me for his son's death. He claimed that if I had just let Steven shoot him, his son would still be alive. He made some small threats, then disappeared."

No one spoke. Angela kept her eyes on Booth, but her gaze was not accusatory. She could see the guilt on his face, the self deprecation he was submitting himself to on the inside showing clearly on the outside.

"Let's get to it people," Cam said then, "We can't be sure what this guy has in mind, and Dr. Brennan is on a time constraint. Let's get this bastard."

Booth threw his former lover a grateful look. They filed out of the office quickly, minds set on the task at hand. He alone lingered, taking another look around his partner's office. Vestiges of Bones littered the room, a silent testimony to her presence. Then and there, alone in her office, Booth sent up a silent prayer. _Please, God, _he prayed, _Let me bring Temperance Brennan home alive._


	5. Lingchi

**_Author's Note: This chapter is a little ... dark. The procedure desribed in the following chapter is real; it did indeed exist in China around 900 A.D. and was outlawed around 1905. Further information can be found on Wikipedia. This procedure is why the story is rated T. On a lighter note, thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed so far! I look forward to hearing your thoughts._**

* * *

Temperance drifted. She was unsure if she slept, or merely slipped in and out of consciousness. She had lain on the table for what felt like ages, immobile and alone. Every so often she could hear shuffling as Earl moved about in the adjoining room, but that was all. The air was still, suggesting that he had turned off the fan. She had stayed like that for an indeterminable amount of time before dozing off, and from then she had simply drifted. Memories played against her closed eye lids, bright memories of a park and a picnic with her family. Every few moments the memory would change, and she'd go from seeing her mother's smiling face to seeing Angela, then Booth and everyone at the lab. A distant, sleeping part of her stirred at the memories, sparked a response deep in her heart.

She blinked as the memories slid away, dropping her back into the waking world. She was disappointed that the memories had gone and left her staring once more at the drab ceiling. She had stopped trying to gather information awhile ago, sometime after her captor had told her where she was. None of it mattered, anyway, since it didn't look like she would be getting away. A voice chirped loudly in her head, reminding her that that was jumping to a conclusion, and she didn't do that.

Footsteps. She turned her head to the left, where the only door in the room was. Earl emerged from the hallway then, and even gave her a sick smile upon seeing her eyes on him.

"You asked for him, you know," He stated

"What?"

"You asked for him, in your sleep. You said his name."

"You must be mistaken," She said calmly, "I don't talk in my sleep."

"Maybe not, when you're sleep is natural," He agreed, then held up an empty syringe, "But you refused to sleep, so I had to help you."

"What did you give me?" She demanded

"Relax, Doc. It's just a sedative. I also took the liberty of asking for your office fax number while you were out. Turns out, you can be very helpful."

He grinned at her, a sick variation of a real smile. Disgusted, she turned her head away from him. She ran through a list of sedatives in her head that he could be using, but it was a long list. She thought for a moment longer, then narrowed the list. Whatever it was, it was widely available; once she had shortened the list with that assumption, she decided the most likely one was Phenobarbital.

"Do you have any children, Doc?"

The question caught her entirely off guard. She whipped her head around to look at him, ignoring the runaway train of thought in her head. Had she given away Parker's existence? Had she said his name while she was drugged? If she had given away the little boy's existence … she squashed the thought.

"No," She said tersely

"Not surprising, really. I don't imagine that Seeley would want children."

"I'm the one who doesn't want children," She corrected automatically

This was a dangerous conversation, and she needed to make sure that the focus remained on her and not on Booth. She could in no way insinuate that he had a child.

"Now that is a surprise."

"Why, because I'm a woman?" She challenged, feeling a familiar rebellious spark

"Of course. It's widely accepted that the maternal instinct is in many ways stronger than the paternal instinct."

"Widely accepted, you say. Meaning that there is no concrete evidence to support that statement as factual, therefore rendering it unbelievable."

"Well you're quite the logical one, aren't you?" He prodded, "Seeley must drive you crazy with the way he always jumps to conclusions."

"I'm learning to adjust."

Earl, who had come into the room and was moving about as he spoke, put his hands on something she had not noticed before. He shuffled to her side pushing a metal cart she recognized as one that was normally used to hold surgical instruments. Fear licked at her insides when she saw it, and her brain began to imagine what could possibly be on the cart. The cart was actually shorter than the table that held her, and as he got closer she was able to see for herself what it held. Various scalpels and drills littered the top, along with several sets of tweezers in varying sizes.

"My wife was destroyed by Steven's death," Earl began as he arranged the instruments on the cart, "She was a strong woman, but she just couldn't handle it."

"Steven … is that your son?" Bones asked, her eyes never leaving the cart

"Steven was my son. He's dead now, thanks to your lover. Lily - my wife - died thirteen months after my son, almost to the day. That's when I knew."

"Knew what?"

She was doing her best to control the fear boiling in the pit of her stomach, trying to keep her captor talking. She was unsure of what exactly she was hoping to accomplish, since logically speaking she was only trying to delay the inevitable. There was no way to know that her team was looking for her, or if they were that they would save her in time to stop this from happening. Whatever Earl was planning to do, she was certain that he would get away with it. A part of her wanted to ask him what he planned, but there was a smaller part of her that was too afraid.

How strange it was, how contradictory to her nature that Brennan was lying now on a table not so unlike the ones she rested her victims on. She was at war with the fear she found in herself at this moment. Many times in her life she'd been in danger, but then she had always had a way to fight back. Here, in this case, she was rendered almost completely motionless.

Earl's voice brought her back to the present.

"That's when I knew that Seeley Booth had to pay. I spent years trying to figure out how to do it, and then one day the answer just fell into my lap. I was working at a cemetery as a caretaker when I saw him about a hundred feet away. He was just sitting there, his head down, and you were with him. You put your hand on his arm, and he took your hand, and I knew. You were my answer."

"You were working at a cemetery? That's a little ironic," She jabbed, sounding braver than she felt

"I don't see any irony in the situation," He said sharply, angrily, "Now would not be a good time for you to develop a sense of sarcasm, Doc. Leave that to your lover."

She wanted to correct him, to tell him that she was not Booth's lover, but a lot depended on him believing exactly that. She had become so accustomed to correcting people when it came to her relationship with her partner that she almost did it without thinking now. She had gotten good at denying that there was anything there more than friendship; so good, in fact, that she could almost believe it sometimes.

Brennan would never admit it aloud, but she had had romantic feelings for her partner for some time now. There had been moments where she was almost positive that he, too, felt something more than friendship for her. Once or twice she had thought that he was even going to kiss her, and then something happened or someone interrupted them. She had started to think it would never happen, and then Caroline Julian had given her the chance. Kissing Booth under the mistletoe … that was it for her. That was when she had officially stopped trying to convince herself that she felt nothing for him.

"You said you've studied the ancient Chinese, Dr. Brennan?" Earl queried

Brennan glanced at him. He was asking her about the Chinese again, which meant that his mind had wandered away from the topic of children. She was thankful that Parker was still safe, that she had somehow gotten his mind off of that topic.

"Yes," She answered

"Extensively?"

"I have been invited to China on more than one occasion, mostly to identify the remains of what was thought to be several of the Emperor's personal guard."

"Fascinating. I, too, am quite fond of their history. Although I'm sure we view it in different lights. Tell me, Doc, are you at all familiar with the ancient's way of punishing their criminals?"

She did not like where this conversation was going. She was starting to panic, and her brain refused to bring up any information on what the man was asking.

"No, I don't think I am," She responded, trying to keep her voice even

"Then let me enlighten you. Beginning sometime roughly around 900 AD, the Chinese developed a form of torture they called _Lingchi_, or slow slicing as some called it. Reserved for the severest of crimes, they would tie the person to some variation of a table and then cut the flesh away from the body."

Brennan had looked upon death, had worked on bodies in various states and degrees of decomposition without ever feeling the need to puke. Now, harnessed to the cold metal table, hearing her captor lovingly describe what he was going to do to her … it was all she could do not to vomit.

"Now, I'm making a few changes to fit my purpose of course, but for the most part I shall remain true to history. In all likelihood, the whole process was quick, lasting no more than twenty or so minutes. That won't work for me, though."

He continued speaking, but Brennan didn't hear him. A thousand questions tumbled around in her head, rolling and colliding with useless information about the body's ability to cope with the massive amounts of blood loss that would certainly accompany such a barbaric act. Her extremities, cold from the lack of activity and slow blood flow, began to tingle as her brain flooded her body with adrenaline.

Her thoughts drifted back to her partner. Where was Booth? Why hadn't he found her yet? Surely she had been gone for days by now, surely her team had noticed her absence? Booth had always found her in the past, had always come to her rescue. He was good at saving people, she knew that first hand. So where was he now, when she was the one who needed saving? In the back of her mind, a nasty little voice whispered to her. That voice told her that he wasn't coming, that he had deserted her, just as her family had. That voice told her that all of her rationale and logic wasn't enough to save her now, that she was going to die here.

She began to squirm as best she could, tried to strain against the bindings that kept her still. Her efforts were futile, but still she tried. Her logic, always there to help her make decisions and do her job, turned on her then. Logically, there was no way she could break the bindings. Logically, she was stuck exactly where she was.

Brennan didn't want logic. She wanted hope, she wanted life. She wanted to find a way off this table before the crazy bastard next to her started slicing away portions of her flesh. She wanted to see Angela again, to tease Sweets for looking like an adolescent, to kiss Seeley Booth. Logic be damned, Temperance did not want to die.

"Now, lie still, Dr. Brennan," Earl instructed her, "Movement on your part will only make the process worse."

"Please," She began to beg, her voice breaking as the tears threatened to spill, "Please, Earl, don't do this."

"Shh. Quiet now, Doc. I need to concentrate."

She was horrified to feel pressure on her left leg, just above her ankle. She could feel the sharp edge of the scalpel as he put it to her flesh. All the other times he had sedated her, yet this sick and twisted bastard was going to leave her fully conscious as he ripped away her flesh. Her mind revolted at the thought; no human being could be this cruel. Logically, she knew they could because she had seen the effects of such cruelty time and time again.

Searing pain tore up her leg, poisoning her body. She could feel something warm and sticky running down the sides of her leg - her own blood. Her captor dug the scalpel into her skin, the pain setting fire to the rest of her body. She tried to shy away from the feeling, but the movement made it worse. Never had Temperance known a pain such as this.

Faces flitted through her mind in disjointed pictures, filling her vision. There was Booth, handing her a toy Smurf; her father, smiling at her as he came to hug her on the courthouse steps; Russ at the window, smiling and calling "Marco".

The world began to swim before her, the faces of her loved ones fading into a murky black pool of water. The last thing Brennan was aware of before slipping into unconsciousness was the tangy, metallic smell of her own blood.


	6. Salvation

**_Author's Note: Next installment! Woot! Don't worry, guys, there won't be any character deaths. I'm not that mean. This is a long chapter, but it's not the last chapter. I am almost done though. Thank you to everyone that has read and reviewed so far!_**

* * *

Booth reached blindly for the handle, flushing the toilet and standing. He turned the water on in the sink and made a cup with his hand, washing the taste of vomit out of his mouth. He didn't bother to dry his hands before leaving the bathroom.

"Hodgins!" He barked as he stepped out, "Talk to me."

Immediately he was surrounded by the squint squad, their drawn faces on him. Normally, he would be worried that they knew he had just puked his guts out, but he frankly didn't care right now. He had other things to worry about.

"Somebody tell me something before I break something," He demanded

"I was able to get a positive I.D.," Cam started, "The … flesh does indeed belong to Dr. Brennan."

"So you're saying that someone … cut away a piece of Brennan's flesh and sent it here, to us?" Angela asked

"Not us," Sweets corrected, "Booth."

"Great. Thanks for the clarification, Sweets."

Booth's voice dripped venom, leaving no room for a rebuttal. Less than an hour ago a package had arrived addressed to Booth. Upon opening the package, they had found a two inch length of bloody skin. No one had wanted to say what everyone had instinctively known.

"The blood indicates that she's alive," Cam continued, "Or, at least, that she was alive when he cut this from her."

"I was able to get a fingerprint off the skin. You were right, Booth, it's Conner," Hodgins started when Cam stopped

"Wait, he left a fingerprint? Doesn't that seem a little messy to anyone else?" Angela asked

"He wants us to know who he is," Booth responded, "He doesn't care if we find him. The whole point, his whole view on the situation is that by the time we do find him, it'll be too late. Bones will be dead."

Those four words took root in his mind. He tried to imagine the lab without her, tried to imagine his life without her. Instead, a memory came to him. A memory of the two of them at the park, while Parker was on the merry go round. He had been explaining why coworkers couldn't be involved romantically. She had sat there with him, quiet, while he gave her the reasons he had given himself. Now, he was faced with her death by the hands of a man with a personal vendetta against him. More ammunition for his argument, and yet at that very moment he could remember the silky feeling of her lips on his.

"Anything else?" He queried angrily

"I found trace amounts of Phenobarbital in her blood," Cam said, "It's a sedative used in both humans and animals."

"So she was sedated when he did this?" Angela asked

"Possibly. It's probably more likely that it's still in her blood stream from when he kidnapped her."

"So, we've got nothing," Booth reiterated, the anger vibrating off of him in waves, "We know Conner has her, and he's drugged her and started …"

He couldn't finish the sentence and no one stepped in to help. They all knew what he was going to say anyway. The evidence suggested that this man was cutting flesh away from Brennan's body while she was awake to feel it.

Booth didn't notice the small tremors that had begun to shake his body. He didn't notice anything, actually, so lost was he in his own head. They had been unable to trace the origination of the package, and there were no particulates in her blood or on her flesh. They were getting nowhere. Bones was somewhere out there, waiting for him to rescue her. That thought tore a hole in his already vulnerable. What she must be thinking: her whole family abandons her, and now, when she needed him most, he was nowhere to be found.

"I am gonna kill that son of a bitch!" He exclaimed loudly, suddenly

"Seeley," Cam said, "We'll find her. We will. You're not alone in this."

He wanted to say thank you for the words that were meant to reassure him, but he couldn't. He was alone in this; if she died, he would be the one guilty of never telling Temperance Brennan how much she meant to him. He would be the one who never told her that he was there for her, that he cared about her. That short coming was his, and his alone.

"Wait!" Hodgins nearly yelled, "I got it!"

The curly haired man disappeared from sight, only to return seconds later with the brown paper the package had been wrapped in. They all looked at him expectantly.

"When I went over the paper, I found no particulates or slime of any kind," He rambled, "But I did find this!"

He pointed excitedly to something on the paper that the rest of them couldn't see. He waited a second, then seemed to remember that no one had any idea where to look. Hodgins strode confidently to Booth and held out the paper, pointing to a very faint marking.

"You were a military man, you should recognize this. I don't know how I missed it the first time around."

Booth scanned the mark for several seconds, trying to make sense of whatever Hodgins was rambling about. The ink was faded, missing completely in several spots, but a pattern was slowly starting to form in Booth's head.

"It's the Navy seal," He breathed, "He used military paper to wrap the package!"

"Bingo!" Hodgins said, snapping his fingers, "He's keeping Brennan on a Naval base! Bet he didn't do that intentionally."

"Hodgins, you're a genius!" Cam commended him

The lab came alive in a flurry of action and talking, while Booth remained rooted in his spot. Hodgins was searching for any Navy installation within a two hundred mile radius that was no longer in use. The others crowded around him, spouting off any helpful suggestions that might narrow the search.

Booth watched them all but could not bring himself to move just yet. His limbs felt heavy and full of lead. He could not shake the knowledge that this wasn't just another case; this was his partner, his Bones. That bastard had taken her to get to him, because he had somehow known that it would work. A stranger, a man Booth hadn't thought of in years, had known what it would do to him if he hurt his partner. He wanted to chastise himself for letting her get so close, for letting her become important, but he couldn't. He was thankful for Brennan's presence in his life, and he couldn't pretend that he wasn't. He didn't want to. Right now, all he wanted was to find her and bring her home.

"There are two decommissioned bases in the area," Hodgins said then, catching his attention, "One of them is only thirty two miles from Brennan's apartment. The other is eighty four miles."

"Great. Get me the name of the first one and the address. I'll head there and send another team to the farther one."

"My money's on the closer one," Cam said instantly, "He lives in this area, he would have easier access the closer he stayed."

"I agree. Cam, you're coming with me. You three, stay here."

"What? No, I'm coming with you," Angela argued

"No, you're not. Stay here with Hodgins, Angela. We don't know yet if Conner's working alone, and you have no training in these situations. I can't be worrying about you while I'm trying to save Bones. Now stay here."

He motioned toward Cam. She stood and they made their way swiftly towards the elevator, Booth fighting his urge to run. He was focused on his next course of action: he had to get to that Naval base. Once he was there, they had the problem of trying to figure out exactly which building Bones was being kept in.

They made it to the vehicle in record time. As soon as he had started the engine he flipped on the siren and pealed out of the garage, going as fast as he safely could. In the seat next to him, Cam said nothing. He glanced sidelong at her, and wasn't surprised to see a look of concentration on her face. No doubt she too was trying to plot their next course.

As nice as it was to work with someone who had a well informed idea of the process, Booth couldn't help thinking how wrong it was that Bones wasn't the one in that seat. Over the last few years, the passenger seat had become her spot. He could count on one hand how many times she had not been in that seat, and most of them were a result of a dangerous situation. Like this one.

Booth pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed dial for his boss. In as few sentences as he could manage he explained the situation and requested back up to the address for the Naval base. When he'd hung up, Cam cleared her throat.

"How are we going to know where exactly they are?" She asked

"Logically, I would say they are going to be in one of the medical buildings. That cut was made with surgical instruments, not some Swiss Army knife. Conner isn't exactly a doctor, so I'm assuming that any surgical equipment would have to be what he's found in the building."

"What do you mean 'isn't exactly a doctor'?" She questioned

"Well, he's a retired veterinarian," Booth explained

"The Navy has vets?"

"Not very many. In fact, Conner was one of only three in the entire Navy."

"Well that would explain how he got his hands on Phenobarbital."

"Yeah, well he's going to be begging for drugs when I get my hands on him," Booth hissed

"Seeley …" Cam started

"Don't, Cam," He cut her off, "Don't say it. This man is trying to hurt me by torturing my partner, an innocent woman. He's trying to get to me through her."

"Is it working?"

The question sounded innocent enough, but it's implications sent him reeling. He took several deep breaths and concentrated on navigating his way through the busy city streets. People were out in force at midnight on a Saturday night.

Saturday. Brennan had been missing for four days. Did she even know how much time had passed? Had she been drugged so heavily that she didn't notice the passage of time?

"Yes," He nearly whispered, "Yes it's working. The thought of her, alone, injured … that would get to anyone."

Cam made no reply, but he thought he could see a flicker of understanding cross her face. Angry, determined, he applied a little more pressure to the gas pedal. They were past where her car had been found, past her apartment. They had to be getting close.

"Take the next right," Cam instructed

He did as she said, whipping the vehicle around the corner a little faster than he'd intended. His counterpart made no comment, however, and he continued barreling down the dark street in silence. The city buildings were starting to fall away as they got a little further out of town, the form of large trees dotting the landscape with their black shadows.

"Go left here, then take your immediate right."

Booth did so wordlessly, slowing down a little more around this corner. The vehicle shook as the blacktop gave way to dirt and gravel beneath the tires. Ahead of them, he could start to make out the silent figures of several buildings.

"This is an old access road leading to the secondary gate," Cam explained, "From the looks of it, this road will deposit us right in the middle of the medical facilities."

He nodded in acknowledgement and slowed down further, dimming his lights and killing the siren. The last thing they needed was for Conner to hear them coming and panic. There was no way to know what he would do then, although even the best scenario made him want to shoot something. They crept along the road for about another mile and a half, until the buildings began to pop up around them. Booth surveyed what he could see of the area; a wide gap had been cut out of the chain link fence, suggesting that Conner had scoped this place out long before he'd used it. How long had this man been planning this? How long had he been preparing, setting everything up?

"Stop here," She told him, and even her voice sounded softer, "Kill the engine."

He pulled to a stop as quietly as he could, turning off the ignition almost simultaneously. They sat there for several long moments, both of them scanning their surroundings for any sign of movement or activity. When nothing happened, Booth opened his door and carefully stepped out. Once he was standing, he slid his jacket off and pulled his gun out if its holster, clicking off the safety. Wordlessly, he motioned for Cam to get out as well. He waited several seconds for his eyesight to adjust to the dark, then glanced around him. They were almost directly in the middle of what used to be a parking lot, with four similarly sized buildings around them in a horseshoe. There were no lights on in any of them, nothing to suggest activity of any kind.

He motioned to Cam, who came to stand by his side.

"What do you think?" Booth whispered

"They look identical," She stated, "Brennan could be in any one of them."

"I know that," He hissed, "Which one do you think?"

"You want me to guess!?" She shot back, sounding outraged, "I can't guess when …"

"We don't have a choice," He cut her off, "We're here, and there's no point in wasting time. Now which building would you say is the most likely?"

She didn't respond at first, choosing instead to scan the buildings again. Their structural differences were minute; the one directly in front of them had a staircase leading to the front door, the one to their left a ramp, and the other two were perfectly level with the ground.

Booth could almost hear the seconds ticking by in his head. His muscles were tense, ready to propel him forward into action. Adrenaline heightened his senses, made him aware of every stir in the air around him. He waited, ready to spring, and still she had not made a decision.

"How old is Conner?"

"What?" He demanded

"How old is he?" She insisted

"By now, somewhere around 48. Why?"

"If we assume Brennan was unconscious when he brought her here, then that means he would have a lot of dead weight. Add to that the fact that he's not a strapping young man anymore, I'd say we can safely rule out the two that aren't floor level. He wouldn't want to make any more work for himself than he had to."

Booth couldn't argue with that reasoning. He glanced at the two remaining buildings, both situated to the right of what he would call the main building. Neither of them gave him any clue to work off of. Neither building had any outstanding features. He glanced at Cam, but she too seemed stuck. He glanced back at the buildings, torn.

Then, a familiar and mechanical sound sliced through the silent night air. He remained stationary and counted to ten, making absolutely positive that it was indeed what he thought it was.

"Is that a generator?" Cam whispered beside him

"It must be how he's getting power to the building," Booth whispered back

Very slowly, he made his way to the building farthest to the right, where the sound was coming from. Weeds and grass did a decent job of masking any sound their footsteps may have made as they approached, and he focused on keeping his breathing even.

When they reached the door, Booth held up his hand for her to stop. He pulled a small .22 handgun from the holster around his ankle and handed it to her, making sure she took the safety off before moving forward again. The door before them was solid wood, and Booth found himself praying that it wouldn't creak when he pushed it open. Conner must have felt very safe here, because when Booth tried the door knob he found it unlocked. Holding his breath, he turned the knob and pushed the door open; it swung away from the pressure of his hand soundlessly.

He didn't allow himself to feel relief. The door was only one obstacle in a line of many on his path to his partner. They stepped inside a few feet, then stopped to take stock of the room. There was no furniture, just a wide empty space. Several more feet in front of them, Booth could make out the shape of a staircase in the dark. So much for Cam's theory on their psycho not wanting to carry dead weight up the stairs.

They inched forward, toward the stairs. Booth warred with himself for several seconds, running several possibilities through his mind. Even if they were to creep up the stairs, there was always the possibility that one would creak and give them away, effectively ruining their element of surprise. Rushing up the stairs, however, was just too much of a risk, and would definitely alert Conner to their presence. _Slow and steady wins the race,_ he reminded himself.

He checked to make sure Cam was still following him before ascending the stairs. He tried to distribute his weight evenly as he went, concentrating on foot placement as well. Every staircase he could remember creaked when someone stepped in the middle of the step, so he was careful to step more toward the edges. Behind him, Cam had taken his lead and was doing her best to keep to the wall.

Booth blinked several times, suddenly aware of a noticeable lightening in the dark. Outlines were becoming more defined around him, which could only mean that they were getting close to some sort of light source. He held up his hand for Cam to stop.

His ears pricked at the faint sound of something above them. He strained to hear it better, willing his heartbeat to quiet down.

"Footsteps," Cam breathed behind him, "On the floor above us."

He listened again. Even from this distance he could tell that they were to heavy to be Bones', which meant they could only belong to Conner. He waited a few moments more, but there was only the sound of one set of footsteps. Conner must have been working alone.

Now, suddenly so close to his partner, in such close proximity to her captor, it took all of his strength not to rush up the remaining stairs. She was there, just barely out of reach. He would never say it, but he was certain that she was waiting for him, expecting him to come for her.

Booth tried to focus on the task at hand. Once they got into the light, it was just a matter of time. There was always the chance that Conner would happen upon them as they tried to find Brennan, an eventuality they had to be prepared for. He turned to his comrade.

"Protocol makes me say that if you find him, hold your fire," He muttered, "A mixture of sense and anger tells me to say that if you shoot him, I'll say it was in self defense."

Even in the pale blackness he could see the ghost of a smile on Cam's pretty face. He took a deep breath and started up the stairs again.

Emerging from the dark night into the light, even though they did so slowly, made him blink several times to adjust his eyesight. They came to stand on the top of the stairs, now engulfed fully in light. The staircase they had used to get there stopped on this floor, but he could see another set of stairs at the end of the hallway before them. The hallway only extended in one direction, toward their right, ending at the bottom of the other staircase. Several doors lead out of the hallway, five if he had counted right. Two on the right, three on the left. All five doors stood open, but the landing they were on was in such a spot to give them a perfect view of the doors, but not into the rooms behind them. One of those rooms, he knew, held not only Bones, but Conner as well. He had no way of knowing if they were in the same room.

His nerve endings were on fire. He was almost painfully aware of his surroundings. Every wall was painted hospital white; the floor, like the front door, was solid wood, and a stainless steel vent ran the length of the ceiling.

"I'll take the three on the left," He informed Cam, "You…"

He froze at the sound of another voice, clear but quiet from the distance that separated them.

"Glad to have you back, Doc," A man, presumably Conner, greeted, "I wasn't sure if you'd wake up."

A very soft voice murmured something in response, something he didn't need to hear to know that the voice belonged to his partner. Anger, the same anger that had been attacking him for the last four days, surged through his veins. His mind was filled the picture of Bones' beautiful face, smiling at him across the table. All at once his resolve snapped, unable to keep him rooted to the spot when he was so close to her.

Swiftly, purposefully, his legs carried him down the hall and into the middle door on the left. He barreled into the room like a tornado, his gun raised and his finger on the trigger. There, in the middle of the room, was Brennan. Tethered to a steel table, wrists and ankles bound to the table with restraints. Behind the table was none other than a very startled Conner Swenson.

"Step away from her," He commanded in a deadly voice, "Or I'll shoot you between the eyes."

He was aware of Cam standing beside him, her gun leveled on Conner as well. His eyes fell to his partner, who appeared to be awake but not entirely coherent. She had a gash on her forehead just below her hairline, but it didn't look serious. His eyes traveled down her form and came to rest on her left leg, where her pants had been cut away. Dried blood caked her skin, evidence of what he had done to her.

Cam was speaking, but he was unaware of what she was saying. He lowered his gun and advanced to the table, only vaguely aware that Conner was stepping away as he did so. His hand found and clutched at Brennan's as he struggled to loosen the bindings holding her to the table.

"Booth?" Her voice cracked

"Yeah, Bones, it's me," He assured her, ripping the restraints from her wrists and starting on the ones at her ankles, "I'm gonna take you home."

He averted his eyes from the gaping hole on her ankle, from the dark pool of blood that had gathered on the table beneath her. The only reason he did not turn and shoot Conner Swenson was because he needed to get Bones out of there.

Brennan's eyes, glassy and unfocused, fixed on his and held.

"I knew you'd come," She whispered brokenly, "I knew you wouldn't give up."


	7. Epilogue

**_Author's Note: Well, here it is, the end of my story. I just want to say thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed my story; I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Until next time, dearies ...._**

* * *

Metal. The unforgiving cold of stainless steel seeping through her skin, chilling her. Fractured images undulating across the plains of her mind, aimless. Unfamiliar smells permeated the blanket of sleep that coated her consciousness. Slowly, the images receded from the forefront of her thoughts as she stirred, waking. She lay with her eyes closed for many long minutes, afraid to open them and see that steel vent above her. She curled her fingers inward, testing her body's response, but stopped suddenly. Her fingers brushed against something soft, something decidedly non metallic in nature.

There was a sound, a voice that called to her from what could have been a great distance or a very close proximity. She was unsure; she was afraid. The next instant she was angry with that fear, and as if to assert control over a situation that rendered her completely helpless, she forced her eyes open.

There was no metal vent. In fact, she wasn't looking straight up; instead, the upper half of her body was inclined, affording her a full view of the room. Her eyes took in the room around her, but her brain failed to make sense of what she saw. She was … in a hospital room? That finding was incongruent with what she knew to be fact.

Just then, Booth rounded the corner into the room. He had a cup of coffee in his hands, and he was staring down at it as he stirred it. The sight of him tore open a deep chasm in her heart, and salty tears sprung to her eyes.

"Booth?" She whispered

He glanced up from his cup and their eyes met. Several indeterminate seconds passed as they merely stared at each other, either unable or unwilling to speak.

"Hey, Bones," He said at last, the first to find his voice, "How you feeling?"

"How did I get here?"

"I brought you here."

He watched a lone tear slip from her eye and fall unbidden down her alabaster cheek. He approached her side slowly, unsure of himself, unsure of her. He sat in the chair that he had dubbed as his officially, hesitantly placing his hand over hers.

"You're safe, Bones. You're in the hospital. Angela is down the hall talking to Cam."

"Parker!"

There was very little that Bones could have said in that moment to render Seeley Booth completely speechless, but his son's name did exactly that.

"Is Parker okay, Booth? Tell me he's okay, tell me that bastard didn't get him!"

"Shh, calm down, Bones. Of course Parker is okay, he's with Rebecca. Why wouldn't he be okay?"

"He got it wrong, Booth, Earl got it wrong …"

"Earl? Who is Earl?" He asked

"The man who took me, his name was Earl," She explained slowly

"No, Bones, the man who took you was Conner Swenson."

She stopped talking for a minute, and Booth could see the gears in her head turning. He said nothing, afraid that she would feel pressured and panic if he started asking too many questions.

"He knew my name," She told him, "When I asked him if he had a name, he said he couldn't remember it. Told me to call him Earl. Conner, Earl, whatever his name was … listen to me, Booth, there was a flaw in his logic. He was wrong."

"About what?" He asked, noting the rising tone of her voice

"He said that you had to pay. That you took away a life more important to him than his own, so he was going to repay you in kind."

"Bones," He said soothingly, picking up the panic lacing her voice

"No, Booth, listen to me! He thought that by taking me he was ruining you. He was certain of it. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that the only reason he thought so was because he didn't know you had a son!"

Clarity crashed in on him then. What Bones was telling him suddenly made a sick, twisted kind of sense. Had that man known about Parker, surely he would have chosen him over Brennan?

"I lied to him," She continued, her voice evening out then, "I lied to him and made him believe that we were lovers. I couldn't let him know about Parker. I had to make him think … I had to believe …"

She let her sentence trail off. He said nothing, but her words stuck with him. Had she been about to say "I had to believe we were lovers"? Of course not. Not Bones, his hyper rational partner. She was obviously in shock, unaware of what she was saying.

"I just kept saying the same thing to myself, over and over again," She began again, "I just kept saying _Don't cry out_. I repeated it over and over again. I was afraid, when I found out that he'd drugged me, I was afraid that I had said Parker's name."

"Sweetie!"

Angela's voice cut into the room, followed closely by the woman herself. She went straight to Brennan's other side and threw her arms around her friend in a hug.

"Ange," Brennan said, smiling her first smile then

"God, Sweetie, I was so afraid!" She said, stepping back to look at her friend, "You were gone for so long!"

"What do you mean, Ange? What day is it?"

Angela and Booth exchanged uncomfortable glances. Brennan tried to read their expressions, tried to pick up on whatever silent conversation they were having.

"Listen, Bones," Booth started, squeezing the hand he was still holding, "You were taken Tuesday night, not long after you left the lab."

"What day is it, Booth?" She asked evenly

"What day do you think it is, sweetie?" Angela asked

"It's hard to say. I drifted in and out of consciousness for awhile… Thursday maybe?"

"It's 7:28 on Sunday morning, Bones," Booth told her gently

She heard what he said, waited for her brain to process the information, but nothing happened. She ran the word over and over in her head: _Sunday, Sunday, Sunday._ Four days; she had been missing for four days. She tried to recall the events of those days, but there were large gaps in her stream of consciousness.

"Temperance."

The sound of her partner's voice, the worry that flecked his tone, caught her attention more than his use of her first name. He was studying her face, no doubt gauging her reactions. Beside her, Angela looked worried and tense.

"There are gaps," She explained, "Long streams of nothing, no memories."

"Although it's not one of the more common side effects," Another voice chimed in, "High doses of Phenobarbital have been known to cause problems with memory."

Cam stepped into the room, coming to stand at the end of her bed. Behind her, Hodgins and Sweets filtered into the room as well. They smiled at her, told her how glad they were to see her again. Seeing them all, standing in her room and offering their silent support, a chord was struck somewhere deep in her chest. She cared for … no, loved the people standing in her room, and they loved and cared about her. They were a family; her family.

"How long have I been here, in the hospital?" She asked, her voice thick with emotion

"Close to eight hours now. The doctors have you under surveillance. They want to be sure that your body has purged the last of the barbiturate, and they have a few more tests to run," Cam answered

"What tests?"

"Well, you lost a lot of blood from the … procedure," Cam said carefully, "So they want to be sure that you're recovering at a satisfactory rate. Mostly they want to test you for any signs of a Prion disease."

"Prion disease? Why?"

"Conner Swenson had a rare form of Prion disease called Acquired Creutzfeldt - Jakob disease, or CJD for short," Hodgins spoke up then, "It's normally an inherited disease, but it can also be acquired through iatrogenic transmission."

"Iatro - what?" Booth queried

"Iatrogenic transmission: accidental exposure to CJD contaminated material through a medical procedure using tainted human matter or instruments," Hodgins clarified, "The doctors want to be sure that you weren't exposed to the disease when he cut you open."

Angela flinched when he threw out the "cut you open" sentence, causing Brennan to smile. She knew her friend was concerned that his terminology would upset her, but it didn't bother her.

"And if she was exposed?" Booth asked

Bones was the first to answer.

"CJD is a form of Prion disease. It damages the brain , often manifesting itself through dementia. Conner most likely suffered from dementia, which is probably why he did what he did."

"Is it treatable?"

Brennan hesitated before answering.

"No," She stated in her no nonsense tone, "CJD is incurable, and ultimately leads to death."

The room was silent. Her eyes never left her partner's face, and she thought she could see him turn a pale shade of white. She turned her hand palm up under his and squeezed.

"When will the tests be back?" She asked, tearing her gaze away from Booth

"A few hours, according to your doctor," Hodgins informed her

"We were just about to eat some breakfast, Sweetie," Angela said suddenly, glancing meaningfully at her counterparts, "We'll be back in a little bit. Want us to bring you anything?"

"No, thanks."

"When's the last time you ate, Temperance?"

This time it was the use of her first name that caught her attention. Booth was fixing her with that stern look of his, the one he used when suspects were being particularly uncooperative.

"I'm not sure, actually," She responded honestly, "Logically, I would have to say lunch on Tuesday."

"We'll bring you back a salad," Angela told her, ushering the rest of them towards the door, "We'll bring you something too, Booth."

The rest of them filed out, leaving her alone with Booth once more. Neither one of them spoke at first; Brennan kept her gaze fixed on their joined hands. Such a strange sensation, holding her partner's hand. They were not normally given to physical contact, so she was mildly surprised to find that his touch calmed her.

"Listen, Bones," He started gently, "I'm a little confused about something. I was hoping you could clear it up for me."

"Sure, Booth."

"You said that you feared for my son's life, basically. How is it that a woman who doesn't want children would come to protect a child that wasn't hers, at the expense of her own life and well being?"

"I was lying there, strapped to that table," She said after a long pause, "And I knew that I couldn't help you."

"You were worried about helping me?" He repeated, incredulous

"Yes. When I figured out his mistake, all I could think about was what it would do to you if it was Parker on that table, instead of me. You're a strong man, Booth, a great example of an Alpha male, but I don't think you could ever make it back from that. So I vowed then and there to keep your son's existence a secret, to protect him the only way I could, and through him, you."

A very strange sound pervaded her ears then, a sound that seemed to be a combination of two very distinct and different sounds. Even more disturbing than the sound itself, she was almost convinced that it had come from her partner. He was looking down, away from her, but she was certain that it had come from his throat.

"Booth …?" She prodded gently

Booth raised his head then, and her breath hitched in her chest when she saw his expression. His chocolate eyes glistened with what could only be unshed tears, and scowl lines marked the space between his eyes. She had upset him.

"I didn't mean to …"

"How did they do it?" He interrupted her

"How did who do what?"

"Your father and brother, how did they willingly leave you? How could they ever choose to be without you?"

The hand of his that was not still encased in her own came to brush a strand of hair out of her eyes, then traced down her face to come to rest as a hook under her chin. The air around them changed, became charged and heavy. Her gaze never left his as he leaned toward her, bringing their lips together in a slow, soft kiss.

The moment didn't last long, and sooner than she would have liked he was pulling away. He reseated himself in the chair, their hands still joined on the bed at her side. He smiled that crooked smile she had come to know so well, and she felt an answering smile light her face.

"You have more heart than anyone I know, Temperance."

"You know, if you're going to start calling me by my first name you may as well just call me Tempe, like everyone else. It's not logical to say my first name every time you address me; it takes too much time."

Booth laughed at that, the first time he had done so since she had been taken. Leave it to Bones to impose logic on a completely emotional situation.

"So," Booth said, his business like tone taking over again, "Do you think Conner Swenson knew he was dying?"

"Hard to say. People who suffer from dementia obviously don't see the world clearly, so it's possible that he didn't know. From an opposing view point, if he did know that could be why he decided that you needed to be brought to justice. The disease could have deluded him into believing that what he was doing was for the sake of justice."

"Either way, Swenson will spend what's left of his life behind bars," He assured her, "The man's lucky my focus was on something else entirely, or I would have shot him. Hell, I should go back and shoot him now."

"You don't mean that," She chided

"Not now I don't, but I think if I would have found him after he mailed us your skin, well … there's no telling what I would have done."

"He mailed you my skin?" She asked, disbelieving

"Yeah," Booth answered, nodding, "That's what lead us to you. He wrapped the package in brown paper with an old Navy stamp on it."

"Was it a lot?"

She could tell that her question made him uncomfortable, but she waited for an answer anyway.

"It was … about two inches long, and very nearly to your bone."

"He got the idea from the ancient Chinese," She informed him, "They used to …"

"Not now, Bones," He cut her off, "I already have enough information to process."

"Sorry."

They fell quiet again and sat in companionable silence for some time before being interrupted by a doctor.

"Welcome back, Dr. Brennan," Her physician greeted, "I trust you're feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you. Have my test results come back yet?"

"I see you've been brought to speed on the situation," He replied, glancing at Booth, "Regardless, you're test results have indeed come back."

"And?" Booth prompted

There was no hiding the almost tangible anxiety in his voice. The sound warmed Brennan's heart, proof that there was someone else out there who cared about where she was and what happened to her. A very welcome revelation.

"The tests all came back negative, Dr. Brennan. You do not have CJD, or any other Prion disease."

Booth's breath left him in a whoosh and he dropped his chin to his chest. That old feeling of helpless fear had come back to him in those few moments, when it looked like there could be an enemy he would be powerless to save her from.

"So, am I cleared to leave then?"

"We'd like to keep you until later this evening, just to be sure that you're recovering satisfactorily. After that, you're a free woman. I'll leave you to relax; page the nurse if you need anything."

"Thank you," Bones said as her doctor left

She glanced at Booth and smiled at the relief she saw on his face. He had really been afraid for her.

"I can't wait to go home," She said happily, as if a thick veil had been lifted from around her

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Bones, but you're not going home."

"What? Why not?'

"Do you really think that I'm going to let you out of my sight after an incident like this?"

"Don't be irrational, Booth," She chided, "You can't be with me 24/7."

"I beg to differ. When you get out of here, you're coming home with me."

"Absolutely not."

"There's no arguing with me, Bones, my mind is made up."

"Fine, if you're so set in your thinking then you can come live with me, in my apartment."

"Why your apartment?" He challenged

"Because it's nicer, of course."

He snorted in exasperation. She glared at him from her hospital bed, that same look of stubborn determination lighting her features as he had seen it do so many times before. She was never going to let him win at this.

Booth started to laugh then, and it wasn't long before Bones was smiling at him. Even after everything they had been through in the last week, they were still back to their old bickering selves. He knew this, was comfortable with it; hell, he even loved it. Arguing with Bones wasn't like arguing with anyone else.

"Fine," He acquiesced, "I'll come live with you, in your apartment."

"Really?"

"You sound surprised."

"Well, it's just … you usually put up more of a fight, that's all."

"Try not to sound so disappointed, Bones," He laughed, "It's been a long week. Right now I'm too thankful that you're still alive to argue with you. Give it a day or two, I'm sure everything will be back to normal."

She smiled at him again, that beautiful thousand watt smile that he loved to see. Conner Swenson hadn't been totally wrong; if he had taken Bones from him, he would have been broken. She was so ingrained in his life now that there was no way to extricate her without causing him great pain. Despite all the reasons not to, despite all the walls he'd fashioned against her, Temperance Brennan had taken root in his heart.

"Are you really going to come live with me, Booth?"

"Yes, at least at first. I won't be satisfied unless I'm directly responsible for your safety. After the first little bit, well, we'll see what happens."

There was a feisty glint in her bright eyes when she asked him her next question.

"Does that mean I get to call you Seeley?"

The sound of his laughter, full and warm hearted, reverberated down the hallway.

* * *

**_Acquired Creutzfeldt - Jakob Disease (CJD): an inherited disease that can also be acquired throught iatrogenic transmission - accidental exposure to CJD prion contaminated material through a medical procedure using tainted human matter or surgical instruments. The disease damages the brain, often manifesting in the form of dementia._**

**_Lingchi (Slow Slicing): Consists of cuts to the arms, legs and chest leading to amputation of limbs and followed by decapitation or a stab to the heart. Ancient Chinese form of torture, called also "Death by a thousand cuts". Used from roughly 900 A.D. until it was outlawed in 1905._**


End file.
